


Age of Temptation

by itsallhushhush



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, trailer trash au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallhushhush/pseuds/itsallhushhush
Summary: After the unfortunate passing of her Aunt Lysa, Sansa—a feisty teenager with a penchant for trouble—is sent to live with her great Uncle Brynden “Blackfish” at the Lakeside Estates trailer park. Shortly after settling into her new residence, she meets a questionable man by the name of Petyr Baelish. And, though her uncle warns her about Petyr, she can’t help but find ways to meddle in his life. However, Sansa soon finds out that Petyr isn’t fooled by the grown-up front she puts on, and her meddling gets her more than she bargained for.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this fic comes from Sophie's look in the movie "Josie" (a blonde haired tease) and Aidan's look in the movie "Beneath the Harvest Sky" (dishevelled trash daddy).
> 
> I'll try my best to update each week, but I can't promise it!

 

ONE

 

****

It all happened in a blur.

One moment she was staring down at her aunt’s pale, lifeless body and the next she was in the back of a police car, with her belongings, being taken to the local station.

“Do you know what happened?” The police officers voice was distant even though he was sitting across the desk from her.

It took a moment for the question to reach her, then she looked at him and slowly blinked. It seemed like a stupid question. “I’m not a doctor, but I think she might have overdosed,” she quipped. Surely he had seen the evidence that was brought to the station—a single bag with a pill bottle and the rest of the pills that hadn't made their way down Lysa’s throat.

The officer scowled and jotted something down on his notepad. He leaned forward with a serious expression as his elbows met the desk and asked, “Was your aunt...unwell? Did she suffer from any mental illness?” He paused a moment before going on. “Could this have been, you know, a suicide?”

Sansa shrugged. Of course, there was a possibility that her aunt had killed herself, she was far from mentally stable. But the way she devoured pills and alcohol, from the moment she woke up till the moment she passed out each evening, it seemed quite plausible that her 40-something-year-old body just couldn’t handle that lifestyle any longer. “Anything’s possible, I guess,” she said.

The officer nodded and jotted down a few more things before turning his attention back to her. “Since you’re not old enough to stay on your own, we need to bring you to a family member. Is there anyone nearby?”

She had to stop and think a moment. Now that Lysa was gone, she really didn’t know who else is out there—it wasn’t as if she received yearly birthday and Christmas cards from her entire extended family. But then, she remembered that she had a great uncle that lived a couple hours away in the next county over.

She gave the officer his name and within the hour she was back in the squad car on her way to her next “home”. Sitting in that car, looking out the window at the blur of trees as they drove along the highway, felt a lot like déjà vu. And, she could have chalked it up to that, if only it had been the first time she had been in such a situation.

...

 

Brynden Tully—or  _ Blackfish,  _ as all the locals knew him as—was one of the few long-term residents at  _ Lakeside Estates _ . Not only did everyone know who he was, but he owned a bait and tackle shop in a premium spot down by the lake—which had been aptly named  _ Blackfish’s Bait and Tackle.  _ The shop was a very modest income, but it was enough for him to live and put a few dollars away. Not surprisingly, living in a trailer park wasn’t that financially demanding.

Just as everyone knew Blackfish, mostly as the surly old man who owned the bait shop, he knew everyone who lived within the park, as well—from the middle-aged women who desperately sought male attention, to the little old ladies who would rob you blind if you left your valuables unattended. He was wise to everyone and everything that went on and what he didn’t know, sooner or later he would hear from the men that frequented his shop. Fishing men were gossiping men—it just went hand in hand.

As the officer pulled into  _ Lakeside Estates _ and began driving through, Sansa wasn’t sure what to think. Some of the mobile homes were dilapidated and nearing falling in on themselves, while others were rather well-kept, in the sort of way that you could tell the owner really cared about their home. It wasn’t the worst park she’d ever been in—the one her and Lysa had lived in was far dingier than this—but it wasn’t as nice as the one she grew up in. Though, this place did have one redeeming quality: a huge, sparkling lake that made the rest of the park look better just for being there next to it.

When they stopped upon an old grey mobile home, her uncle was sitting outside in a patio chair on a weathered deck. Sansa hadn’t seen her Uncle Brynden since she was a child, but he still looked the same, albeit, there was a lot more grey in his hair and a lot more age to his face than she had remembered.

Sansa stared out the window, looking at her uncle before she realized the officer had already exited the car and climbed the steps to speak with Brynden. In turn, she grabbed her bag of things and got out of the car, but her apprehension was apparent as it took her a lot longer to get up the stairs than it did the officer.

She stood far enough away from them that she couldn’t hear the conversation between the officer and her uncle, but by the look on Brynden’s face it was a serious one. Of course, he was probably telling Brynden the details of Lysa’s sudden passing, and how he was now the sole guardian of his sixteen-year-old great-niece.

With a nod to Brynden and another to Sansa, the officer walked back to his patrol car and left her standing at the edge of the porch with her bag in hand. For a moment she just stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say.

Brynden let out a grunt and got up from his chair. “I’ll show you where to put your stuff,” he said and led the way into his trailer.

The inside wasn’t any more special than the outside, but at least it was relatively clean, save for a few dishes in this sink and a few empty beer cans on the counter. The living room and kitchen were basically the same room, with a small kitchen table, an ugly brown couch, and a tiny tv that sat opposite the couch.

Sansa’s room wasn’t much of a room and it was barely big enough to fit the single bed inside of it, but at least it was an upgrade from sleeping on Lysa’s old pull-out couch. There were, at the very least, four walls and that’s all she could ask for.

She tossed her bag on the bed and reached into her pocket for her phone. There were no messages, no snaps, and even more upsetting: no wifi connection.

“Hey, um, is there no wifi here?” She asked, stepping out of her room.

Brynden looked at her as if she had three heads. “Why what?” He asked, while simultaneously answering her question.

“Uh...nevermind,” she replied. At least in Lysa’s trailer park, there was wifi—she was never going to be able to afford actually paying for phone service. “I’m going to need money to pay for my phone,” she said, assuming that Brynden—like Lysa—would just give her some money and let her fend for herself. It wasn’t that big of a burden since Lysa always had a stash of cash from selling her pills.

Brynden snorted at her request. “You’ll work and pay for that thing yourself.”

Sansa suppressed a groan. “Where am I going to get a job around here? It’s not like I have a car,” she pointed out.

“You’ll work at my bait and tackle shop and pay for things yourself,” Brynden told her.

“That sounds  _ really _ fun,” she snarked and rolled her eyes.

“Work isn’t supposed to be fun,” he grumbled back.

Sansa rolled her eyes again. Of course someone his age would think that. “I’m goin’ for a walk,” she said and could hear Brynden mumbling something about “kids these days” as she walked out the door.

She sighed heavily. Living with Brynden probably wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought. She had always heard stories from her mother about how great her uncle Brynden was, but perhaps he hardened with age. Lots of people do.

Sansa pushed her earbuds in and turned her music up so that it was the only thing she could hear. The only way she was going to survive living in this place was if she had something to keep her occupied. She just needed to find it. 

 

 

 


	2. TWO

 

TWO

 

“There will be another drop tomorrow,” Petyr said to the man on the other end of the line, as he glanced out the window of his double-wide. His eyes narrowed with interest as he spotted a tall blonde walking around the park by herself.

“Be on alert - I saw a patrol car around earlier. They might be looking for a bust,” he advised and hung up the call, though his interest was still out the window on the blonde. The way she was dressed—in barely there short-shorts and a crop top—it was hard not to look. He was a warm-blooded man after all.

In his hand, his phone began to vibrate and he brought it to his ear, still watching out the window. “Yeah?” He answered, and quickly his attention was taken over by the phone call. “What! Who was it!?...Okay...I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up the phone he looked back out the window and the girl was no longer there. “Fuck,” he said and grabbed his keys. The elusive blonde would have to wait, as he currently had more important things to handle.

 

...

 

Sansa’s second day at the park was, consequently, her first day working the cash at the bait and tackle shop.

Brynden had woken her up at the crack of dawn, thumping on her bedroom door. She had tried her best to ignore it, but he was a persistent old man if nothing else. After the third set of thumps, she groaned loudly, intent on him hearing her displeasure, then rolled out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts and bikini top.

“Breakfast is on the table,” he mumbled from behind his newspaper as she walked out of her room.

Sansa slid into the kitchen table and her nose immediately turned up at the offering: a fried mash of fish and potato. “I think I’ll just have some toast,” she said and grabbed a couple slices from the stack that sat in the middle of the table.

As she ate she looked through her phone. Her social media was always buzzing and lively with messages and likes, but, truthfully, she didn’t have any _real_ friends. Most of the kids she grew up with broke contact once she went to live with Lysa, and it didn’t help that she quit school around the same time. Sure, there were a few teenagers in the park where Lysa had lived, but most of them were too busy getting wasted on drugs to have a normal conversation, let alone make any kind of friendly connection. She didn’t even have any family to connect with, because, after her parents and two little brothers were killed in a car wreck, Jon had immediately joined the army and Arya ran away. Jon would send her letters from time to time, but when she stopped replying the letters slowly stopped showing up, and the last she heard from Arya, she had gotten work with a travelling carnival and was constantly moving around the country. So, in reality, Sansa only had herself a few hundred Snapchat followers to keep her company. Sure, it got lonely, but she had gotten used to that feeling.

“You can’t wear that,” Brynden said as Sansa got up to clean her plate at the sink.

She looked back at him and frowned. “It’s mid-June and hot outside! What do you expect me to wear?”

“Put on a t-shirt. You’re working the cash, not the corner,” he muttered, looking back at his paper.

Sansa huffed in frustration, but she knew if she wanted money she needed to work, which meant abiding by Brynden’s rules. She went back to her room and threw a t-shirt on over her bikini top. But, if she had to wear a shirt she was going to wear it _her_ way—which meant rolling the sleeves shorter and tying the bottom into a knot, making it look more like a crop top.

“This _better_? Or would you rather me wear a three-piece suit?” She asked as she came out of her room again.

Brynden only looked up from his paper and snorted at her.

It felt like a win.

...

 

By mid-morning Sansa realized that the bait and tackle shop was much more than just that. It was also gathering place for the locals that lived in the park. Over the morning she had seen many people come and go and heard more gossip over a few hours than she had heard in the last six months combined. All in all, everyone was rather friendly, and the people that lived in the park seemed more like a small community than anything else—which was night and day compared to the park she lived in with Lysa.

Because she was new, everyone that entered the shop was curious about her and asked about her. When they found out she was Brynden’s niece they were even more friendly and some even told her a joke or two at her uncle’s expense. One thing she did notice about the people that came into the shop was that most of them looked to be around Brynden’s age or a bit younger—not one of them was her age.

It was past noon when the tiny bell on the door dinged and Petyr stepped into the shop and immediately over to the empty counter. Upon walking closer, though, he could see that someone was on the floor on the other side of the counter. He waited a moment, expecting to be greeted, but when he wasn’t he spoke up. “Can I get a black coffee?”

“It’s self-serve,” she said from down on her knees. Sansa was trying her best to clean up coffee that had been spilt by the previous customer.

Petyr raised a brow. Blackfish had always served the coffee as long as he had remembered, but he supposed he could serve himself this once.

He walked over to the coffee station and poured himself a large black coffee, then went back to the counter. The girl was still down on her knees cleaning the floor, from what he could see. “Can I pay for this? Or is the cash self-serve too?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

Sansa huffed and sprung to her feet. She was all but ready to tell the guy off, but,  when she got a look at him, he was grinning at her smugly and it completely threw her off. He was one of the first men to enter the shop that didn’t look over sixty. He was older than her, of course, his tousled brown hair greying at the sides and a few wrinkles around his eyes. “Will that be everything, sir?” she asked, in the most professional voice she could muster.

Immediately, Petyr recognized her as the blonde he had spotted walking around the park. She was a pretty young thing, but he couldn’t really pinpoint her age. He had already learned the hard way to never guess someone’s age based on how they looked or what they wore—it could get you into a lot of trouble. “Well...what else have you got on offer?” He asked, and there was a teasing grin beneath his moustache.

Sansa knew the look in his eye—it was the same look she’d seen on the faces of the men Lysa had taken back to the trailer on drunken nights. She had lost count of the number of times strange men had offered to give her anything she wanted if she would give them what they _wanted_. So it wasn’t a shock to have older men making passes at her anymore. It became second nature to expect it, and she’d be lying if she said she never took advantage of their interest. She learned exactly how to get what she wanted from them while giving very little in return.

Sansa smiled at him, the same sweet smile she had given every pervert that had hit on her before, and took the money from his hand. “Sorry sir, I’m not sure what you’re implying,” she replied innocently and handed him back his change.

Petyr half-laughed and shoved the change into his pocket. He looked her up and down and quirked a brow at her before turning and leaving the shop.

Sansa watched him go, without paying much mind to him, but as the day went on she couldn’t help herself from thinking about him again—and the way he looked at her before he had left. It was a lot less leering and creepy than she was used to.

That evening, when she was cleaning up after dinner, she questioned Brynden about the man.

“There was a man with a moustache at the shop today. Who was that?” She asked, mindlessly rinsing the dishes and setting them aside to dry. Brynden hadn’t replied, so she turned to look at him.

“Hmm?” Brynden finally responded, clearly having been more interested in the evening news than what she was saying.

“The man with the moustache at the shop today. Who was he?” She asked again.

“Bill?” He replied, his attention never leaving the television.

Sansa thought a moment. It wasn’t Bill, he had introduced himself and he was old and completely grey. “No...this guy was a lot younger than Bill.”

It took a moment, but finally, Brynden looked over at her, eyes narrowed. “What’d he look like?”

“He had a moustache,” as she had already mentioned, “and a bit of a stubble on his face. His hair was kind of messy, a bit of grey—“

“Don’t mind yourself with him,” Brynden said, cutting her off. The look on his face was more scowl-y than usual. “He’s nothin’ but trouble...so do yourself a favour and keep away from him,” he warned, voice stern.

“He seemed pretty harmless,” she said with a shrug.

“Just...stay away from him,” he reiterated and turned back to the news.

Of course, it was glaringly obvious that Brynden didn’t have much experience with teenage girls, because warning them against something—or someone—was a surefire way to get them to do the opposite, and Sansa was no better than any other teenage girl in that respect. The man couldn’t be as bad as Brynden made it seem, could he? Surely, he was exaggerating for effect. If anything, the stern warning had made her that much more interested in the unnamed man, and she was determined to find out more about him, whether it was good for her or not.

 


	3. THREE

 

THREE

 

A couple days passed and the man with the moustache hadn’t returned to the bait shop, but she didn’t fret about it. She knew she would see him again because you can’t live in the same trailer park as someone and only cross paths with them once.

...

It was sometime past noon when she left the trailer to explore the park. It was a Saturday and Brynden hadn’t made her go to work, so there was no better time to get acquainted with her surroundings and catch up on her tan. She knew the chances of coming across the moustached man while on her walk were fairly low, but she kept an eye out for him anyway.

She had nearly walked around the entire park without seeing him anywhere. It wasn’t until she had almost made her way back to her uncle’s trailer that she spotted the man of interest outside tinkering around his pickup truck.

Sansa didn’t make a sound as she walked over to where he was loading the back of his truck with unmarked boxes.

“Y’know...you have a reputation around here,” she said after a moment of watching him.

When Petyr heard the girl’s familiar voice he smirked to himself, and after placing the last box on the back of his truck he turned to look at her. He looked her up and down—she was wearing jean short shorts and a loose tank top that just skimmed her belly button—and then walked around to the driver’s side of his truck and jumped in. “Yeah? What’ve ya heard?” He finally replied though he needn’t an answer as he knew exactly what his reputation was around the park.

Sansa leaned in through the opened passenger's side window and smiled. “Well, Uncle Brynden says you’re trouble, and I should stay away from you,” she recalled.

Petyr laughed. Of course Blackfish would say that about him. “Yeah, well, he’s right,” he said with a smirk.

Sansa grinned back at him and after a moment asked, “So, where ya goin’?”

“To make trouble,” he replied quickly.

“Wanna take me for a ride?” Sansa asked, leaning into the window just a bit, knowing full well no man with even half a mind would refuse her company.

Petyr smirked at the thought. “Oh, _I would_ , but I thought Blackfish told you to stay away from me?” he posed.

“Mm...well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said with a smile as she pulled open the door and hopped into his pickup.

Once she was inside, he started the truck and drove through the park and then out onto the highway—which was less like a highway and more like a beat up back-country road, with its plethora of potholes and what seemed like an endless amount of woodland.

After a moment of driving in silence, Petyr spoke up. “So, what’s your name?” He asked, glancing over at her.

“Sansa. You?”

“Petyr.”

“Petyr...hmm...that’s kind of an old man’s name isn’t it?” She teased.

Petyr half laughed. “Well...as they say, you’re only as old as the person you feel,” he said and grinned at her.

“I think only creepy old men say that,” she replied, poking fun at his age again.

Suddenly, the truck began to slow and they pulled down a road that could barely be considered a dirt road, and for a moment Sansa’s heart began to race. She was alone in a truck with a man she had barely met a few days ago, and he was taking her down an inconspicuous side road.

She looked at him quickly—he wasn’t a huge man, but if he wanted something from her, there would be very little she could do to stop him. “You’re such an idiot,” she thought to herself. This was exactly how people died in movies.

Just as Sansa had herself convinced that she was driving to her death—or Lord knows what else—Petyr pulled the truck off onto a hidden lot which housed a small, nondescript building. There were small windows along one side of the building, as well as an entrance, but there was nothing on the outside that indicated what went on inside. Besides the building and Petyr’s truck being on the lot, there were a few other vehicles as well.

Petyr grabbed his keys and got out of the truck, and just as Sansa was about to open the door and follow him, she was stopped by his voice.

“You have to wait out here,” Petyr said and shut the door behind him.

“Why?” She questioned, her brows furrowed together.

“Are you old enough to drink?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s why,” he said, then began unloading the boxes from the back of his truck.

Sansa watched him for a moment, then turned back around, settling into her seat with a huff. If he didn’t want her to go into the building, then why bring her along? She crossed her arms and stared over at the building. Surely, it wasn’t that big of a deal if she had gone inside. It didn’t seem like this place, out in the middle of nowhere, would be overrun with regulation inspectors.

She watched as another man came outside to help Petyr bring the unmarked boxes inside, and once they were finished, she waited patiently, thoughts twisting and turning in her head until Petyr returned to the truck.

“Were those boxes full of liquor?” She asked, eyes narrowing at Petyr as they drove back out onto the hidden road.

He glanced over at her, and then back at the road. “Maybe,” he replied, with no intention of divulging anything more than he had to.

“What was that place?” She questioned further.

“It’s none of your business,” he replied, and again Sansa huffed, going quiet.

“If you didn’t want me to ask questions, you shouldn’t have brought me,” she spat at him a few minutes later.

“I didn’t tell you to get in the truck,” he reminded, which shut her up instantly.

Sansa didn’t say another word for the rest of the drive, just stared out the window in silence.

When Petyr parked the truck in his driveway, she immediately got out and made a beeline back to Brynden’s trailer.

“Don’t go away mad,” Petyr called after her, “just go away!”

She turned then, shooting him a glare, and then gave him the finger. Though, when she turned her back to him, she smiled to herself. She didn’t need him to find out what was going on in that secret building, she would find out on her own accord.

And when she looked down at her phone, there were perfectly coordinated directions showing her the exact route to get back to the hidden location.

She may be underage, but the last thing she was was stupid.

 

 


	4. FOUR

  


FOUR

 

It had been a few days since Petyr had seen Sansa around. He figured he had pissed her off enough to keep her from ever coming round again—perhaps she wasn’t as easy going as he had first thought. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, cause he didn’t need some young thing meddling around in his business, but, on the other hand, he also didn’t need her to go mouthing off about the whereabouts of his business setup. So when he saw her, sunning herself on a towel near the lake, he knew he had to talk to her.

She was wearing nothing more than a tiny bikini and a pair of sunglasses, and when he stepped close enough, casting a shadow over her, she pushed the sunglasses onto her head.

“You’re in my sun,” she said, then let the sunglasses fall back onto her face.

Perhaps this was her way of ignoring him.

“So, you’re still mad,” he said simply.

A moment went by before she pushed the glasses back onto her head, and looked up at him. “Mad? Why would I be mad?” She asked, smiling up at him.

So this was how she was going to play things.

“You’ve not come around,” he commented.

“No, well, I’ve been busy,” she replied, and he knew she was lying—there was nothing to keep a young girl busy around here. Well, maybe a couple things.

“Ah I see, ‘cause I thought maybe you were scared I’d get you into trouble,” he proposed and grinned down at her.

“You don’t scare me, I’ve been around worse than you,” she fired back at him and he laughed.

“Great then. I’m glad we’ve got that settled. You’ve been busy,” he said, glancing out over the water and then back down at her. If she wanted to play games, he’d play—and he’d call her bluff in time. But not too quickly, not until he made her squirm a bit.

“Right. Busy,” she said again and then pulled her sunglasses back over her face. “Could you please get out of my sun!”

Petyr laughed again, shaking his head as he walked away. She was as obvious as the sun in the sky.

 

...

 

It took her a few days to devise a plan of action, but once she did, she was confident in her ability to pull it off. In secret, she’d been watching Petyr from afar, tracking his comings and goings, and it only took a few days to notice a pattern. His truck was gone from early morning until around noon, he would come back for a few hours, load up his truck and leave again, then he would come back sometime in the evening, around seven. His truck didn’t leave again until almost eleven at night. She figured with this daily pattern of his, she had about a four-hour window to walk back to where he’d taken her the other day, and according to google maps, it would only take her about thirty minutes to walk there.

She knew that she had to be as stealthy as possible if she wanted everything to go smoothly, so she made sure her phone was completely charged and that she wore darker coloured clothes so as to not draw attention to herself. On foot she would be able to cross through the woods, with her phone's GPS to guide her, and, if she spotted his truck on the road, she would easily be able to hide among the bushes.

At six-forty that evening she made her way out to the wooded area that lined the trailer park’s entrance and waited until Petyr arrived back at the park before she took off through the woods.

When she figured she was far enough away from the park she moved out onto the road and continued walking straight ahead. Anytime she heard the sound of a vehicle coming she dropped off the road and back into the woods until the sound had vanished.

The idea of walking for thirty minutes hadn’t seemed so bad in her plan, but by the time she was over three-quarters of the way there, her legs really wanted to rest—it didn’t help that the evening was still as hot and dry as the day had been, and she hadn’t thought to bring water. But she couldn’t stop to take a rest, she couldn’t risk losing the time.

By the time she had reached the secluded side road, she was tired, but the adrenaline of her mission kept her going. She weaved into the woods once again and looked closely at her phone as she grew nearer and nearer to her destination.

As she approached the lot, she walked slowly, quietly snaking her way through the trees. She examined the vehicles that were parked alongside the building—there was more there this time, and things almost looked busy—but when she didn’t see Petyr’s truck in the parking lot, she knew it was her chance to go forward.

She was shaking slightly when she walked up the set of stairs to the door, and for a split-second, she thought that maybe she should leave, but her curiosity was a lot stronger than her self-doubt. She could hear music coming from inside the building and when she pushed open the door and walked inside she was startled to see a man standing by a set of red curtains, which kept the main room separated from the entrance.

The man stared at her, his stern gaze looking her up and down as if she were a piece of meat. “You have ID?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding, and she almost froze.

“I know Petyr, he’s expecting me,” she lied through her teeth, and hoped he couldn’t see the cracks in her facade.

“You one of the new girls?”

“Yeah, I am,” she said again and flashed him a friendly smile, though it began to falter the longer he stared at her without speaking.

“Petyr’s not here. See Margie behind the bar,” he instructed and then nodded toward the curtains.

Sansa walked through the opening in the curtains and felt her entire body sigh with relief that she’d made it this far. Though beyond the barrier there was a short hallway she had to walk down before she was into the main area, and when she came to the end of the hall she was taken aback by what she saw.

She had imagined that what was inside was an illegal bar, somewhere patrons could get drunk for cheap and for as long as they pleased—but what was actually taking place had never crossed her mind.

There were numerous tables splayed across the area, and each of them was taken up by two or more men sitting around drinking and—presumably, from what she could see—gambling, as a number of tables were fitted with green felt, cards and chips. But what was most jarring to her were the women that seemed to be serving the men and keeping them occupied: they were all young-looking girls—probably not much older than herself—and each of them was in nothing more than a pair of skimpy, lace thongs.

She stared, unsure of where to look as she watched drunken men ogle and touch the girls, who, in response, smiled and laughed—a couple of them even had money tucked into their thongs. And though she was the most clothed girl there, she felt completely exposed.

Her presence was barely noticed by anyone, and quickly, her eyes scanned the room for the bar, which was nearly the furthest away from where she was. She kept in the shadows as best she could as she walked to the bar, where a friendly brunette, presumably Margie, was working—-she was, at least, dressed in a lace bodysuit.

When Margie turned around, she saw Sansa immediately and she smiled brightly at her. She had a youthful face, big eyes, and a slightly upturned nose.

“Are you lost, sweet thing?” she asked, and her voice had a distinct southern twang—she obviously wasn’t from the area.

Sansa hesitated. “No, I—“

“You one of the new girls?” Margie asked before Sansa could say anything.

“I—I was just walking by and...could I use the restroom?”

“Of course, sweet thing! It’s right over there,” she said and pointed her in the direction of the bathroom.

Sansa all but ran to the room and closed the door behind herself. She didn’t realize how fast her heart was racing until she was alone and could feel her entire body buzzing. It was so obvious now, the reason Petyr didn’t want her to see inside the place, and she couldn’t help wonder how often he was here. Did he sit at those tables drinking and gambling? Did he get a thrill out of having half-naked girls parading around him? Of course, he must, why else would he have such a place?

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She just needed to calm down, rest a moment, and then she would leave. She really didn’t want to be in this place one second longer than she needed to be.

She walked over to the sink and turned it on, and when the water began to run cold she cupped her hands together and brought it to her mouth. She drank a few handfuls of water and then stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a bit of a mess—definitely not her usual state—and for a split second, she wondered if she compared at all to the girls out on the floor.

She combed her fingers through her hair and wiped her damp palms on her shorts before leaving the bathroom. But then, before she could make her way to the exit, there was a firm grip on her upper arm and she was pulled into a completely dark room—the only thing she could hear was the sound of the door closing.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the lights flickered on, blinding her momentarily. She blinked hard, her eyes coming back into focus, and there was Petyr standing before her, scowling, and she felt her stomach drop to the floor.

“Why the _hell_ are you here?” He growled.

“I—,” she began, her first instinct was to apologize, but Petyr cut her off.

“I told you this place was none of your business,” he reminded, angrily.

Of course, he was right; he had told her that, but he didn’t have to be so mean about it. She didn’t appreciate being scolded like a child.

“Yeah, because you didn’t want me to find out what a pervert you are,” she spat back at him. “How many of them have you fucked?”

Petyr scoffed. “I’m taking you home right now.”

Sansa would have protested, but after seeing what kind of place it was, she didn’t want to be there any more than Petyr wanted her to be. Her decision to go there was, admittedly, wrong, but at least she was now wise to the type of man Petyr was.

She followed him out to his truck without a word and they drove back to the park in silence, though she could tell by his body language that he was still upset with her.

Just before they reached Brynden’s trailer, Petyr stopped his truck—the last thing he needed was for Blackfish to see him with his niece.

“You can’t tell anyone what’s going on out there,” he said, looking over at her.

Sansa stared straight ahead. She could do whatever she wanted, he had no way of keeping her quiet.

“Tell me you’re not going to say anything,” he pressed.

“Or what?” she thought to herself, but settled on, “Fine.”

She didn’t wait for him to say anything else, she just got out of his truck and started walking back toward her uncle’s trailer.

Of course, she would keep his secret—something that juicy, well, she could probably benefit a lot from keeping it. She just needed to figure out how much her silence was worth to him.

 


End file.
